


Under the Open Sky

by blurbang



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst, Drama, Dystopia, Friends to Lovers, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Roommates, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurbang/pseuds/blurbang
Summary: The Haven district may be a violent, crime-ridden shithole, but hey, it’s home.Koushi’s just trying to keep his head down and get through life with as little hassle as possible, but the universe seems to have other plans. When his ties to a powerful crime syndicate start to get out of control, he finds himself pulled deeper and deeper into a world that he's totally unequipped to deal with.Luckily, Daichi's around to help. It's too bad Koushi's not sure if he's equipped to deal with him either.Yakuza AU.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

At Suga's approach, the boy didn't look like much.

In the dim light of the back alley, illuminated by the pale wash of neon signs and flickering street lights, Suga's first thought is that someone had left an unusually misshapen bag of garbage in the entryway to his apartment. 

He pauses a few paces away when he realizes that the garbage bag is shivering.

Sugawara's eyes slowly shift over the small, abused form in front of him. Drunks and bums passed out in the dark nooks and crannies of New Haven wasn’t exactly a rarity, but it wasn’t hard to see that the body in front of him belonged to neither group. Suga takes in the blood-stained clothes, a busted lip, an angry, swollen black eye, and a small shock of bleached hair visible even in the murky light. The boy, maybe sixteen, glares back up at him with nothing short of murderous contempt. 

Suga feels a small smile crack his lips at that. Beat half to death on a stoop, and he's still stupid enough to look at someone with those eyes. A defiant, futile “fuck you” to him, Haven, and the rest of the universe. Suga knows the look.

He sympathizes. He really does.

For almost a minute Sugawara just stands there, considering him quietly. The boy looks small for his age. Maybe he’d been singled out by someone with nothing better to do, and that was the reason he was a bloody mess on Suga's doorway. Or maybe Ukai had finally gotten ahold of the little sneak thief he had mentioned a few days ago. Suga couldn’t really imagine someone being so spectacularly, suicidally stupid, but...

The kid did kinda have a vibe.

“That looks painful.” Suga finally breaks the silence, slowly squatting down to sit on his heels as he spoke.

Of course, the reply that Sugawara isn’t really expecting doesn’t come. Eyeing the boy, he’s met with the unchanged accusing, wild glare. 

Practically begging him to push the issue.

“So, are you the one who stole from Ukai’s sto-” 

An explosion of glass cuts Suga short, and suddenly a bottleneck is hovering centimeters away from his nose, broken shards glittering menacingly in the light. The boy’s shaking hand shines white in the darkness with the force of his grip.

“Don’t... fuck with me... asshole...” The boy’s voice is ragged, with each word gasped out between shallow breaths and clenched teeth. 

Suga smiles softly. He felt like he couldn’t turn a corner in this god-forsaken district without running into some hothead determined to exit this world, kicking and screaming, as soon as humanly possible. Stealing from a money-laundering business of the Nakanokai syndicate was definitely one of the faster routes.

He holds his hands up placatingly, palms out. “Take it easy. It’s none of my business.”

The boy’s eyes flick from Suga's face to the now-exposed undersides of his forearms. Suga doesn't need to follow his gaze to see what he's looking at: two _komainu_ , the guardian lion-dog symbols of the Nakanokai, were inked in black on his skin, one on each arm. One of the creatures held its mouth closed with a passive stare, while its twin’s expression was frozen in a furious snarl.

The boy’s eyes snap back to Suga's. “Bullshit,” he whispered. “You... you’re...”

“Not interested in beating a half-dead kid,” Sugawara says evenly. “Besides, it looks like Ukai already took what he wanted from you.”

The boy’s gaze narrows- in either annoyance or distrust, Suga can't tell. He _does_ feel the boy scrutinizing him, carefully measuring him up, but Suga is content to let him. He realizes that not many things should be taken at face value in New Haven, especially reassurances from strangers.

However, the boy is hardly in a position to do anything about any suspicions, and that much is obvious. Suga can see that he's beginning to struggle with keeping himself together: tension was slowly bleeding out from the boy’s frame, shoulders slumping, the makeshift glass weapon lowering a few centimeters. His breathing came only in shallow, ragged pants.

Honestly, Suga's surprised that someone in the boy’s condition could be sitting upright at all. But he doesn't look like he's going to last much longer.

“Come on.” Suga gently knocks the bottleneck away from his face with the back of his hand as he speaks. The glass easily slips to the ground with a clatter. “Let’s get you inside.”

The boy doesn't reply, and Suga makes no move from his crouch. For almost a minute they quietly face each other in the dingy alley, and Suga could’ve sworn that he saw a flicker of something else in the boy’s eyes. For an instant they seem to desperately search Suga's face, looking for some reassurance to cling to; some last ditch effort to justify an inevitable outcome to himself. 

“Fuck you,” the boy finally croaks.

Suga shrugs in response. Fat droplets of water begin to fall from the indifferent night sky.

The boy relents. Near-unconscious, he allows Suga to gingerly wrap an arm around his torso and haul him to his feet. Suga feels him tense beneath his fingers and suck in a sharp, wheezing breath at the sudden motion, but he makes no other noise.

“Easy...” Suga murmurs softly. The boy is too short for him to duck his head under his arm and support him that way, so instead Suga keeps his arm around the boy’s waist. Even in the dark, Suga can see his eyes are squeezed firmly shut, and beneath the drying blood from a cut on his eyebrow, the boy had gone a ghostly shade of pale. 

“Do you have a name, then?” 

“...Nishi...noya,” he grits out haltingly.

“Alright, Nishinoya.” Suga smiles as gently as he can. “Don’t die, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! this is my first fic for haikyuu. i have a bit more written, and i can see it going on for maybe seven chapters? enjoy the angst. if the volleydorks seem a little different its because i figured that maybe they wouldn't all be such squishy, lovely marshmallows after growing up in an aforementioned "violent, crime-ridden shithole." but under their callous, hard exteriors, there have nothing but mushy little centers, i promise.
> 
> unbeta'd, so the responsibility for this garbage is fully my own! hope you enjoyed it. will update on sunday or a bit earlier!


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they climb the two flights of stairs to Sugawara's apartment, the younger boy is covered in a sheen of cool sweat and swaying dangerously on his feet. Suga struggles to hold him upright with one hand while fumbling with the deadbolt with the other. 

“Come on, come on...” He whispers under his breath, glancing down at the quickly fading Nishinoya. If Ukai really _had_ left the boy half-dead on his doorstep for him to fix up for whatever reason, then he really needed to get Daichi to have some kind of discussion with the old man about tact and clear communication. Because _Jesus Christ,_ there had to be a better way to do this. 

The door finally unlocks with a _click_ and swings into the apartment. Suga stumbles through the doorway, half-dragging the small boy along with him. 

“See? Cake.” Suga mutters. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nishinoya manage to shoot him a withering look.

At this point, the boy has about all the force of intimidation of a half-drowned mouse. Sugawara clicks his tongue.

“Get the stick out of your ass,” he chides, but still takes it as a good sign that the kid somehow still had enough energy to be difficult. Suga begins to shuffle them towards the couch that he knows is somewhere in the middle of the room.

“Suga?”

The lights flicker on, and all of a sudden Asahi is standing in the hallway at the far side of the room. Shirtless and dishevelled, he's obviously just been woken up, but even from across the room Suga can see that his dark brown eyes are bright and intent with worry.

“Hey.” Suga smiles tiredly. 

“ _Christ_ , Suga-- What happened?” Asahi asks as he strides forward, pushing a cheap coffee table back from the couch with his foot to clear room for Suga to set the boy down. Nishinoya’s eyes flutter slightly as he's lowered, and he mumbles something unintelligible but almost definitely indignant.

“He stole from Sakanoshita.” Suga replies to Asahi, keeping his eyes on Nishinoya. Gently, he pushes up the boy’s thin jacket and shirt to reveal tan skin laced with small scars, grime, and large, dark bruises, with a particularly angry-looking purple and crimson blotch wrapped almost all around the left side of his rib cage. The boy flinches away from his touch.

Suga pauses for a moment, taking in the damage, both the older scars and the fresh welts. 

There's a lot of it to take in.

“Are you telling me _Ukai_ did that?” Asahi askes incredulously.

“Asahi.”

“For _stealing?_ Suga-”

“ _Asahi!”_ Sugawara's voice is sharp, but not irritated. His roommate falls silent.

“Can you check if Takeda can get here in the morning?” Suga asks quietly, and Asahi, bless him, quietly grabs the telephone from the wall and begins to punch in numbers.

Suga continues to look over Nishinoya as Asahi speaks in low tones in the background, but aside from a roughed-up face, a small fever, and the bruising on his side--which he's sure meant at least a few cracked ribs--the boy seems relatively okay. It's true that any time Suga's fingers brush against Nishinoya’s skin he feels the semi-conscious boy go rigid and suck in a harsh breath, just like he had when Suga picked him up off the concrete, but he was starting to suspect that the reaction isn't from pain. The boy flinched whenever Suga touched him, no matter how lightly or where, and didn’t relax until several moments after he withdrew his hands. 

Suga's eyes flick to the insistent, dark bruise. At least not entirely from pain, at any rate. 

He makes a mental note of the boy’s discomfort with him as he pulls the boy’s clothes back into place. Suga glances up at his face, expecting to see two threatening slits glaring daggers at him, but Nishinoya’s eyes are closed, and the dark lines of anger and fear had disappeared, smoothing over his boyish features into an expression that looks disarmingly innocent. He was out.

Suga is faintly surprised that the kid was even capable of looking that serene, especially with his face worked over as it was, but he guesses even near-suicidal rage had a limit. 

The small _click_ of a phone hanging up comes from somewhere behind him, and Suga glances over his shoulder to Asahi looking quietly at the boy on the couch. 

“Takeda?” Sugawara asks.

“He said he’ll stop by on his way to the hospital tomorrow.”

Suga nods in acknowledgement. He knows that their apartment is actually a good thirty minutes out of Takeda’s way to the hospital he worked at, but the doctor never mentions it, so neither does he. 

A moment of silence drags on between them before Asahi speaks again. Some of the worry sharper worry had bled out of his voice, but he still sounds concerned. “Do you really think Ukai would’ve...?”

“Beat the kid for stealing?” Suga shrugs. Ordinarily, he would’ve dismissed the thought outright. As an underboss for the Nakanokai syndicate, Ukai controlled most of the New Haven district and its numerous smaller gangs, including Daichi’s. It was really mostly Daichi who dealt with him, but even Suga knew him well enough to know that beating up someone this young wasn’t his style. 

But, the kid made it pretty clear that he stole from Ukai’s front business, and it wouldn’t have been the first time that Daichi had been sent a questionable recruit with no explanation. Tanaka--yet another one of those hothead-with-a-deathwish types, Suga muses as he looked over at Nishinoya’s soft expression--was dragged to their door a year ago by one of Ukai’s stone-faced underlings with no comment other than that Daichi was getting put in charge of him. They hadn’t found out that he’d been sold by his father to work for Ukai and settle his old man’s gambling debts until months later. Maybe Ukai was just playing the same game?

Suga sighs. He can feel his irritation building, a low buzzing in the back of his head, but there was no point. The boy was out cold. If there was anything to be figured out, it would have to wait until tomorrow.

“Not sure.” He flashes Asahi an apologetic smile as he straightens up and starts making his way towards the apartment’s small kitchen. “Is anyone else home?”

Suga sees Asahi nod out of the corner of his eye as he rifles in a cabinet for the hydrogen peroxide and bandages.

“Yeah. If you’re quiet you can hear Tanaka snoring,” Asahi grumbles.

Sugawara snorts. If there was anyone in the universe that he was truly jealous of, it was Tanaka. He slept like a dead man on morphine. “And Daichi?” he calls, grabbing a brown plastic bottle before shutting the cabinet door with his elbow.

“He left a while ago.”

Suga grunts his acknowledgement and strides back into the living room, a roll of bandages between his teeth and an armful of other medical supplies. He sets everything down on the coffee table except a rag and a bottle of water. Asahi immediately reaches out to help.

“Let me-”

“Don’t you have work in a few hours?” Sugawara asks mildly, untwisting the cap from the bottle.

Asahi glances at a clock hanging on the wall with a slight wince. “Um.” 

“Go to bed. It's fine, I got it covered.” 

“You sure?”

“With your shitty wrap-jobs, I actually think you’re doing the kid a bigger favor if you go back to sleep, Asahi.”

The line earns Suga a hard punch to the shoulder, and he can swear he hears something that sounded a lot like “fuckass” in a low grumble as Asahi disappears back into his room. The door shuts quietly behind him.

Suga turns back to the boy on the couch, and crouches beside him, wetting the small towel in his hand with a bit of water. He gently brushes some hair, stiff with dirt and sweat, from his forehead. Even with the busted lip and eye swollen shut, the boy really does look peaceful, in an odd sort of way. Like a regular kid. Innocent in that way that all kids kind of look. 

“Hellion,” Suga murmurs softly. 

He begins to dab the blood from the boy’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second chapter, and only two days late! also, i promise this isn't a suga/noya fic guys, really (talk about rarepair hell tho)


	3. Chapter 3

Takeda drops by in the morning and confirms what Suga had already suspected: the boy’s exhausted, and has a few cracked ribs but no concussion. The doctor is more concerned about the fever that Suga had stayed up most of the night trying to bring down with no avail, but even then Takeda’s advice is to give the boy some more aspirin and wait a day or so before taking him to the hospital. He gives Suga a small plastic bottle of strong painkillers for when Nishinoya wakes up, finishes the coffee that Suga had made him in one gulp, and rushes out the door with a few flustered but sincere apologies for being behind schedule.

Sugawara finds himself staring at the entryway for several moments in Takeda’s wake. He isn’t really sure how a man like that had ever become a doctor under the employment of a crime syndicate. The guy couldn’t be more unassuming if he tried. 

Suga glances down at the boy he’d dragged in last night, still passed out, still flushed behind the bruises that coloured his face. He needs someone to look after him, and Suga had to work in an hour. Daichi hadn’t come home last night and Asahi was already gone, so that left... 

Tanaka.

Suga walks over to the boy’s room and opens the door, not bothering to knock. His eyes slide impassively over the mounds of clothes strewn around the floor and zero in on their target, the colorful lump of blankets sitting on a mattress tucked into the corner.

“Morning, Tanaka.”

A small snore emanates from the heap.

Sugawara casually picks his way through the chaos to the bed, and squats down on his haunches beside it. Tanaka’s head is pillowed gently beneath one of his tanned, lean arms, features soft, his breathing even and peaceful. A bit of drool trails from his parted lips to the mattress beneath him.

Suga leans forward until his face is centimeters from the boy’s and he can feel his warm breath on his face.

“ _Tanaka!_ ”

Tanaka’s eyes snap open, and for a frozen split second they lock with Suga's before the boy lets out a startled screech and clumsily jolts backward. His shaved head hits the wall behind him with a sharp _crack_.

Sugawara smiles brightly. “Good morning.”

“Damn it... Suga...” Tanaka groans weakly, doubling over and clutching his head in his hands.

“There’s a boy passed out on our couch. Keep an eye on him while I’m at work?”

“Go _away_ ,” Tanaka moans.

“You owe me.”

“For what?”

“You’ve been sneak-eating the takoyaki I bring back from work for a month.”

Tanaka pauses, glancing up at Suga. “Maybe that was Asahi,” he mumbles.

Suga stares down at Tanaka, his expression wooden. The boy meets his gaze for a few long moments before he caves, burying his face into the mattress with a muffled groan. “They’re so fucking _good-_ ” 

“Just keep an eye on the kid, okay?” Suga calls over his shoulder, already making his way to the front door. “I’ll bring you some dinner.” 

“Yea, yea...” Suga can hear the younger boy crawling out of his bed after him. “Who is this guy anyway?” Tanaka asks around a yawn.

Sugawara slips on a pair of beat-up sneakers. “A charity case from Ukai,” he calls again, adding “I think,” in a quieter voice as Tanaka emerges from his room in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants. The boy throws a curious glance at the figure on the couch on his way to the kitchen.

“The kid looks like meatloaf.”

“Less now than before. Make sure he takes these when he wakes up, okay?” Suga sets the bottles of painkillers and aspirin together on the coffee table. He hears a grunt of acknowledgement from over by the refrigerator before he slips out the door.

+++

“Yo, Sugawara.”

Suga glances up from the large burnt pot held between his knees that he had been viciously scouring for the better part of thirty minutes at the sound of his name. A brown-haired boy with a lazy smile pokes his head through the back doorway of the kitchen and gives Suga a small wave. 

Suga smiles in return and sets the blackened pan down on the floor with a small clatter. The ruined thing had been pulled from the back of a cupboard by the owner, a short-tempered middle aged man who thought that scouring burned cookware was the ideal character building exercise for late employees. Suga figures that he’s been forgiven by now. 

Probably.

“Lunch order?” he asks.

The boy, Kinoshita Hisashi, strides in, a small square of white paper in hand. The sleeves of his white button up shirt are rolled up just enough to see the inked black feet of two komainu beneath the fabric. “Yep.”

Suga points Kinoshita to the front of the kitchen, where the owner stood in front of a large stovetop. Invariably, a few times a week, some underboss of the Nakanokai sends for food for themselves and their subordinates, and an underling goes to pick it up and bring it back to headquarters. Kinoshita was one of Ukai’s newer recruits, so Sugawara often saw him on “runner” errands like these, but as far as he could tell the boy didn’t seem to mind. 

Kinoshita returns in a few moments as Suga is getting started on a pile of dishes. 

“Hey, Kinoshita.”

The boy pulls up an overturned bucket and sits by the back entrance, fishing a cigarette from his pocket. He glances over at Suga. “Yea?”

“Ukai caught the kid who stole from Sakanoshita?”

Kinoshita nods as he lights the cigarette and takes a long drag. “Yea, he did. Yesterday.” His lazy smile returns to his lips. “I wasn’t there, but Daishou told me that the little brat ran into him while he was trying to sneak away by the back alley.”

Suga doesn’t recognize the name. “Daishou?”

Kinoshita waves his hand. “New guy. The kid got him pretty good, too,” he chuckles, tracing a line with his pointer finger diagonally across his left cheek. “He had a big scratch on his face when I talked to him that he was pretty pissy about. But,” the boy pauses to exhale some smoke out the open doorway, “didn’t Ukai send Daishou and the kid to your place? I thought he wanted Sawamura to deal with him.”

Suga slowly nods in agreement, taking a moment to order the information. It would have been unusual enough for Ukai to allow a kid to get handled so harshly that Kinoshita would have mentioned something about it if it had happened. That meant that the kid had either been caught already half-dead and sent unceremoniously to the front steps of his apartment, or that something had happened on the way to the apartment. 

Suga doesn’t think of himself as a detective type, but he figures that one of those options is more likely than the other.

Kinoshita moves on to another subject after a seconds’ pause, but Suga only half-listens to the words.

+++

Suga arrives home to find Nishinoya still asleep on the couch, but Tanaka tells him that he was up for a few hours earlier, apparently conscious enough to drink some water and stubbornly refuse to take any pills for almost thirty minutes before Tanaka finally threatened him into it. The boy’s still feverish to the touch, but not very much. 

Suga feels a small smile on his lips; he’s pleased, more than he has a right to be. Nishinoya was a stray in a district full of strays, and one who just happened to be unwillingly dropped into Suga's lap by a mob boss with an odd sense of pity for troublemaking kids. The boy isn’t his to feel anything about. Suga knows this, even as he grabs a glass of water from the kitchen and sets it on the coffee table next to the pills, gently checking the wrapping he’d placed yesterday on the boy’s wrist. He ignores this fact, and also ignores Tanaka’s shit-eating grin as he goes to his room to catch up on the sleep he missed last night.

He catches a low-spoken, “goodnight, Mom,” from Tanaka in the living room before he hits the mattress and shuts his eyes.

+++

Sugawara awakes in the middle of the night to the strangling feeling of sheer panic. 

For a few moments, Suga can’t even breathe. He chokes, like a fish out of water, and all he can feel is his heartbeat thundering in his chest and the heavy darkness of his room bearing down on him as he desperately tries to force air into his stubborn lungs. They respond sluggishly, allowing him nothing more than a few choked gasps and nothing else. For an instant Suga is sure he’s going to die, as sure as he is of anything, and red spots begin to dance across his vision-

He rolls off the bed, falling the short distance to the floor and landing awkwardly on his left side. The pain that shoots through his arm is enough to jolt him back into his own skin and he sucks in a ragged, shaking breath that fills his chest and blots out some of that ball of dread in his stomach. For almost a minute he just lies there, breathing heavily between spasms of coughing and clutching at the cold wood floor beneath him. His head is spinning, but the floor presses against his skin and reminds him of reality. Suga clings to the feeling.

Suga's respite is short lived, but at this point he’s just lucid enough to steel himself for what he knows is coming. His stomach contorts painfully, accompanied by a dizzying wave of nausea. He dry-heaves as he forces himself to his unsteady feet and stumbles to the bathroom.

He has a second to close the door behind him with his Suga before he drops to his knees by the toilet and throws up his dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to promise all five of ya'll that are reading this fic that daichi is fact a character in this story and will definitely be in the next chapter


	4. Chapter 4

Suga wasn’t quite sure when he started waking up in the middle of the night.

He knows that it began sometime after Ukai took him in because he has no memories of his father being angry at him for that, and Suga is sure that being awoken by his cries in the dark is not something that his old man would have let him off the hook for. 

He didn’t scream anymore, but every once in a while he would still be dragged awake in the middle of the night by blank terror and the feeling of his chest in a vice grip. He’d try to breathe in but the dark felt like a smothering blanket, pressing in on him so tightly that air was nowhere to be found.

Eventually something would give. He would manage to force a gasping breath, or bite down on his knuckles until the pain overrode panic. Sometimes, like tonight, gravity and the hardwood floor did the job.

After that the nausea would come, and he almost never won that fight.

Sugawara kneels on the cold tile of the bathroom floor for a long time, shaking and retching until he’s pretty sure (or at least really hoping) that there’s nothing left in his stomach for his body to reject.

Somewhere behind him he hears the sound of Daichi gently opening the bathroom door.

He knows that it’s Daichi without opening his eyes, partly because this was somewhat of a routine for them, but mostly because he can just feel it. After ten years around him, Suga had developed a pretty good sense for the older boy: he knew him by the sound of his footsteps and the ease of his movements, even in the dark.

Or, in this case, slumped over a toilet bowl.

“Koushi.”

Daichi’s voice is a little rough from sleep, but Suga still hears the question in it.

“‘m fine,” Sugawara slurs tiredly, spitting into the water before he rests his head on his forearm, still half-draped over the toilet. His eyes are screwed shut. He just needs a moment, and the world will stop spinning, and he’ll finally catch his breath, and his stomach will stop twisting into knots. “Gimme... gimme a sec...”

Daichi does, taking a seat on the floor. It takes Suga a minute to pull himself together but eventually he manages to bully his limbs into moving, and slowly pulls himself to his feet by the edge of the sink. He rinses his mouth under the tap until he stops tasting bile, ignoring Daichi’s gaze boring holes into the back of the head. 

He slides bonelessly to the floor next to the older boy once he’s finished and props his elbows on his knees. He focuses on breathing and the floor between his feet, as if he just tried hard enough he could will the dizziness away and will his hands to stop fucking trembling. It’s never worked, but it's all Suga can do, so he keeps trying.

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Daichi stares at Suga, and Suga stares at the yellowed tiles on the ground.

“Bad one?” Daichi finally asks.

“Nah.” Suga's voice sounds painfully, pathetically hoarse to his own ears. He grits his teeth in irritation. “I’m alright.”

The older boy nods, accepting the obvious lie without a sideways glance. Suga feels grateful, not for the first time ever, that Daichi has a talent for leaving well enough alone.

Suga gathers the last dregs of his energy and takes the initiative to change the subject. “Are you gonna tell me about the kid passed out on the couch or what?” He finally glances over at the older boy, who rests his head against the wall behind him.

“I guess that wasn’t you, then.”

For a moment Suga's not sure that he heard him correctly, but Daichi raises a questioning eyebrow. 

“Of course it wasn’t _me,_ you _\--_ Daichi, have you _seen_ the fucking kid?” Suga hisses, exhaustion momentarily overcome by indignation, “He looks like someone used him as a god-damned _piñata-_ ”

“I know, I know. Just--” the boy runs a hand through his hair. “Ukai sent Daishou to bring the kid to the apartment and let him cool off a bit. He was fine when they left. Daishou just brought him to you like that?”

Now it’s Suga's turn to raise an eyebrow. “Daichi, no one brought him in.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I found him dumped in the alley. No one was around.” 

Daichi sighs, rubbing his face. “What a fucking idiot. Ukai’s gonna kill him.”

Even though his voice doesn’t betray anything except annoyance, Sugawara sees Daichi’s jaw clench underneath tan skin and feels him tense up beside him. 

“Who’s this Daishou guy anyway?" Suga asks. "I haven’t heard of him before.”

“Ever heard of Nohebi? One of the south side gangs?”

Suga nods; the name was familiar. While Nakanokai controlled the Haven district, the area was still full of smaller gangs of local kids that got together sometimes to protect each other, but mostly just to pick fights with other gangs. Many of them ended up joining the Nakanokai eventually, and Ukai left the ones who didn’t alone as long as they stayed out of his way. The Nohebi were one of those groups, made up of boys from the port of New Haven in the southern part of the district.

“Daishou’s their head,” Daichi continued, “They joined the Nakanokai a month ago.”

Suga blinks. "Oh. So Ukai _is_ gonna be pissed." Insubordination in recruits that new was not something that the underboss took lightly.

Daichi nods, then pauses for a moment, glancing over at Suga. "But... Takeda said the kid was okay?” The question comes out suddenly, coloured with a slight awkwardness that’s so unlike the older boy that it makes Suga grin. Sometimes Daichi’s emotional constipation could be downright heartwarming.

Daichi narrows his eyes, but the look doesn’t have any bite to it. After a few moments a smaller smile cracks his lips as well. “Well?” he grumbles, looking back at the wall in front of them.

“Yea. He’ll be alright.” Suga's gaze lingers on Daichi for a little bit longer before he also turns his eyes forward again. “Pain in my ass already, but alright.”

Daichi nods again, and they sit in comfortable silence on the tiled floor. Suga's boneless, trembling exhaustion ebbs into regular tiredness, his pale hands stop shaking, and the sick feeling in his stomach slowly dissipates, but he doesn’t want to get up, not quite yet. Here, in the shitty, dingy bathroom of his equally shitty, dingy apartment, he feels like the world is standing still. There’s no beat up boy on his couch, Tanaka and Asahi aren’t sleeping just past the thin bathroom walls, he’s not a dishwasher at a restaurant in the immigrant quarter, and he doesn’t live in the Haven district slums. Ukai doesn’t exist. He pretends that none of it exists even though he knows that he’d take a bat to the head if either of his friends asked him to. Even though Ukai has shown him more kindness than anyone ever has or probably will.

He doesn’t fantasize about something better; that’s not the point. He just lets it all melt away for a moment.

His head eventually falls onto Daichi’s shoulder, and it feels familiar, warm. It feels like he can breathe.

+++

Sugawara wakes up early for training in the morning, gets his ass thoroughly kicked, and makes it back to his apartment in a stupor by noon. 

Nishinoya is finally awake, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the couch with a bowl of food while Daichi and Tanaka are talking and eating at the table. He looks...

Surprisingly good. His hair is caked with grime and his clothes look ratty, but the swelling in his face is almost gone, he’s eating, and his eyes look guarded but bright and alert. Suga allows himself a small moment of satisfaction. 

Nishinoya glances away from the two other boys and over to Suga at his arrival, carefully watching him as he puts his gym bag on the floor and slips off his shoes. Suga walks past him on his way to his room without looking down.

“You need a shower, kid,” he calls, rifling through his closet for a spare towel.

No reply.

He walks back out to the living room, towel in hand. The boy is frozen on the floor, eyes narrowed.

“Up. Shower,” Suga says. Nothing happens. Nishinoya stares at him, he stares back.

It’s a game he figures that he’s going to have to play for a while, and he doesn’t really mind. He understood where the kid was coming from. Daichi had probably explained the situation to the boy this morning. You can stay, play by our rules, get a roof over your head, and food. Ukai more or less owned you, depending on how useful he thought you were. Or, you can leave. Go back to the streets, or whatever life you were living, and try to make it alone. Either way, don’t steal again.

Nishinoya had been backed into a corner, with a choice between dying in a gutter or worse--Sugawara seriously doubted that the kid had anyone to take him in, and kids did not last long alone and homeless in New Haven--or living a decent life under a crime syndicate.

Suga knew that this offer was a kindness, and he was sure that the boy knew that as well.

But it was still a corner.

He didn’t care if Nishinoya wanted to dig his heels in just a bit longer.

After a few beats the boy finally gets to his feet and follows Suga to the bathroom. He puts the towel on a hook and puts the lid of the toilet seat down. “Sit.”

Nishinoya does. Suga crouches down in front of the toilet, happy that his head isn’t in it this time, and takes the boy’s bandaged wrist in his hand. He ignores the Nishinoya tensing up beneath his fingers, but he’s gentle as he unwraps the dressing all the same. He sits back on his haunches once he’s done. “How’s that feel?”

The boy draws his arm back as soon as Suga's grip loosens. “Fine,” he says immediately.

Brat. “Sure. Why don’t you move it around for me?”

The boy stares, motionless. Suga stares back.

Nishinoya looks away. “Hurts a bit.” His grumble is barely audible.

Suga nods. “Alright.” He’d save the bandages, in that case. “Let me see your side, then.” The boy’s eyes flash in irritation, and Sugawara raises his hands placatingly. “I just want to see the bruises, after that I’ll leave you alone. Fair enough?” 

Another beat, and Nishinoya stiffly removes his shirt. The heavy blue and purple bruise that bloomed across his pale chest is even darker today than it was yesterday, but that’s normal enough. Suga straightens up, reaching out and ruffling the boy’s hair as he does. The boy glares up at him behind wisps of dingy brown and blonde.

He snorts at the image. “You can kill me in my sleep later. Shower now. I’ll grab you some clothes,” Suga turns to leave, but his hand hovers for a moment over the doorknob. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is suddenly softened, his eyebrows knit together. He knows that the words are meaningless, they change nothing. The boy is still cornered, and everyone is in their own little corners, and words do not help. The apology comes out anyway.

Suga shuts the door behind him without glancing back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting to the end of my last term of school and i'm getting bogged down with papers, so ~~someone please fucking kill me~~ updates are gonna keep being a little sporadic. this fic is my favorite form of procrastination right now though so who knows
> 
> thanks for the lovely comments guys


	5. Chapter 5

After a few minutes of hunting around his dresser, Suga finds an old pair of sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt that he outgrew years ago. They’re still too big for the kid, but it's the best he’s going to get for now. He goes to deposit the clothes by the bathroom door, and is turning back to his room to go take a nap, or drop dead, he doesn’t really know or care which one, when Daichi calls to him from the kitchen table.

“Hey, Koushi. Ukai wants to see you tonight.”

Suga sighs, pausing mid-turn. This really wasn’t his week. “Sure,” he finally says, dragging a hand through his hair. “Wake me up when you wanna leave.”

“You know it’s noon, right man?” Tanaka this time, speaking around a mouthful of what was probably cornflakes.

“Thanks, Tanaka,” Sugawara replies mildly, shooting the boy a sideways glance. Tanaka smiles widely back at him.

Cornflakes. Definitely cornflakes.

Suga's stomach does an uneasy turn at the sight, and even though he knows that most of the reason that he’s feeling like such garbage right now is because he hasn’t eaten properly in 12 hours, the thought of food makes him want to curl up by the toilet again. The feeling must be written on his face because he sees Daichi watching him intently from the opposite end of the table, expression inscrutable.

Suga frowns self-consciously. And Tanaka had the audacity to call _him_ ‘mom’.

“Just wake me up, okay?” he says as he turns back to his room, his tiredness adding a slight edge of irritation to his voice that he doesn’t really feel but doesn’t bother to take out either. He hated that look sometimes; Daichi’s dark brown eyes staring at him like the boy was looking _into_ him instead of _at_ him. It made him want to squirm.

Suga removes his shirt and shorts once he closes his door behind him, and then flops face-first onto his mattress, burying his face into the pillow until it’s hard to breathe.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into the fabric.

He didn’t really know how long he had been in love with Daichi, but he’s pretty sure it had started with that same stupid fucking look. 

Suga rolls over onto his back and stares at the ceiling. It’s pathetic, he knows. There was absolutely no chance in hell that anything was ever going to happen between them, he also knows. He should be mortifyingly ashamed of himself for pining after a guy who was basically his brother, and he _definitely_ knows that one.

He still can’t help it.

It’s kind of a problem.

Suga falls asleep with his face buried in the crook of his elbow, trying his best to scrub Daichi’s face from his memory.

+++

“Sugawara Koushi. It’s good to see you.”

Ukai’s voice filled the room, as warm and imposing as always. Suga takes a small, respectful bow. “Likewise.”

He and the others had arrived at Ukai’s headquarters half an hour ago, a squat but well-maintained three story building at the edge of a quiet commercial district a decent walk from their apartment. While Tanaka and Asahi had stayed in the bar downstairs, Sugawara and Daichi currently stood at the centre of Ukai’s spacious, brightly lit office. It was minimally decorated, but Suga was still pretty sure that any given object in it cost about as much as his share of rent. 

Ukai had been seated behind a large silver and glass desk, but gets to his feet as he speaks. “And thank you for dragging him here, Sawamura,” he says wryly, and even though Suga's eyes are still turned to the polished floor beneath his feet he can hear the smile coloured in the boss’ voice. “Your friend is a busy man.”

Suga blinks, glancing up in surprise. “I-”

Ukai waves away his protest. “If you’re busy it's my fault, isn’t it?” he chuckles as he walks around the desk. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to the two white leather chairs behind them. “And Sawamura...”

Sugawara takes a seat. Daichi remains standing, waiting.

“Find Daishou, please.” Ukai’s voice maintains its casual, easy lilt, but Suga sees a steely flash of irritation in the man’s eyes that reminds him to be grateful he hadn’t done anything to piss off the old man since he was a kid. 

Daichi nods curtly and walks out of the office, shutting the door quietly behind him. Ukai’s gaze lingers at the doorway for a few moments before he looks back to Suga, leaning back on the desk. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that mess,” Ukai sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

As fatherly as Ukai could be, Suga had never quite figured out how to take an apology from a man who controlled an entire district of the city he’d grown up slumming in. It feels... inappropriate, so Suga remains silent.

Ukai seems untroubled by the lack of reply, absentmindedly retrieving a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket and tapping at the bottom of the carton.

“You got Takeda to take a look at the boy?” he asks, switching subjects.

“Yes. His ribs looked broken.” 

The man nods thoughtfully. “And he’s being taken care of?”

“As much he wants to be.” Suga shrugs, earning himself another wry smile from Ukai. The man lifts a cigarette to his lips and lights it, taking a drag.

“He did seem... obstinate, didn’t he? But,” Ukai exhales a thin trail of smoke, “his situation isn’t why I asked you here. I wanted to let you know that you have a match coming up. Three weeks.”

Suga immediately sobers at that, straightening up. “Who?”

“He’s Saitokai,” Ukai replies. “Akaashi Keiji.”

Saitokai, meaning the syndicate that controlled the Midtown and North Corner districts next to New Haven, and Akaashi Keiji, a fighter that Suga had watched once from the sidelines of a Midtown arena maybe six months ago. He remembers a boy with dark, almost black hair, a dead-eyed stare, and a penchant for locking his opponent into a clinch and laying into them with his right knee. 

Akaashi had won the fight. Solidly, by technical KO.

“Alright. Three weeks.”

Ukai smiles approvingly, rising up off the desk just as there is a hesitant knock on the door. “Sawamura’s boys are running the books; I’ll talk to him about it later. I just wanted to let you know, in person. You know.”

 _You know. To check up on you_ , Suga hears, though he doesn’t comment on it besides a small smile of acknowledgement. Maybe Daichi could get away with a few teasing comments at Ukai’s expense, but it wasn’t a line that the silver-haired boy was interested in toeing. 

“Come in,” Ukai calls to the door, just as Suga rises back to his feet. Ukai looks back to him. “I’ll be dropping by the gym in a few days, so I’ll see you then.”

Suga bows again, and when he straightens up there is a figure standing by the doorway.

The boy is about his height and build wearing a lime green sports jacket, with pinched, sharp features and narrowed eyes that fall on him with mild disdain. A hard ball of contempt forms in Suga's stomach the instant he sees the narrow red line that extends diagonally from the boy’s ear to the corner of his mouth.

Kinoshita’s voice rings in his ears. _“New guy. The kid got him pretty good, too. He had a big scratch on his face when I talked to him that he was pretty pissy about.”_

It’s a scratch.

It’s a fucking scratch.

The image of a small, dirty form discarded like garbage in an alley burns through Suga's mind, white skin and scars and wild, desperate eyes in the dark. That buzzing irritation in the back of his skull builds insistently, demanding to be felt, and it’s all Suga can do to stiffly thank the underboss and walk past Daishou, gaze fixed rigidly in front of him. In his periphery, he can see the boy’s slanted eyes follow him out.

Suga closes the door behind him.

“Hey.” Daichi’s waiting for him in the hall, leaning against the wall opposite Ukai's office. It takes Suga a moment to physically unclench his jaw and shove his anger back to some part of his mind where he won’t have to deal with it for a little while. Both actions take considerable effort.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Suga sighs as they set off back to the downstairs bar. “I think I need a drink.”

“You need a drink?” Daichi smiles gently, teasingly incredulous. “Sugawara ‘My Body Is A Temple’ Koushi actually wants a drink?”

“Looks like I have three whole weeks until my next match.” Despite his irritation, Suga feels some of the tension fall from his shoulders as a smile comes to his lips. “That means I can drink you _and_ Asahi under the table tonight.”

Daichi raises a doubtful eyebrow at the lie; Suga had all the tolerance of a kitten and he definitely knew it. 

“Oh, shut up, asshole,” Suga grumbles, throwing out an elbow to catch Daichi in the ribs. The boy dances away from him easily, shooting him a wide, playful grin, dark eyes glinting slyly in the light, and Suga feels his mouth suddenly go a little dry at the sight.

God, that fucking smile. 

It turns him to putty, and Suga wishes that he could just fucking drown himself in it. It really wasn't fair that a hardass like Daichi could even make an expression like that, but it makes Suga _weak_ and he's not sure who he hates more for it, Daichi or himself.

It takes him a moment too long to peel his eyes away and focus them back in front of him, and by that time Daichi is back by his side and throwing a heavy arm over his shoulder. Suga stiffens for a second, putting all his energy into smothering some inhuman noise that's trying to crawl its way up his throat.

Daichi glances down at him curiously, and Suga pretends not to see it.

Jesus-fucking-Christ.

He really needed that drink.

+++

Tanaka and Asahi both already have a good head start on Sugawara and Daichi, but the two boys are more than happy to help them catch up. The four down a couple of pitchers, and by the time they get up to leave Suga has polished off the last of his third beer.

He’s not drunk--of course he isn’t drunk, it’s _three beers_ \--but he’ll admit that a two year dry spell and a mostly empty stomach isn’t keeping him exactly sober. His thoughts are a little fuzzy around the edges, the ground a little less solid beneath his feet, and he feels... good. Lighter.

“ _Akaashi Keiji?_ ” 

“Mhm,” Suga hums, glancing over at a wide-eyed Tanaka as the boys make their way back to their apartment. They’re walking down a dark city street, flanked on each side by tenement houses liberally decorated with graffiti. “You know him?”

“I saw his match a few months ago,” The boy replies, putting a hand on Suga's shoulder. He can feel the boy crackling with energy, practically bouncing on his feet. “Glad I don’t have to fight him, that’s all.”

“Well yeah,” Suga grins. Tanaka’s enthusiasm is infectious, and he’s more than happy to get sucked in right now. The cold night air that coats the inside of his lungs makes him feel alive, like he can do anything. “You’d lose, baldy.” He feels the boy’s grip tighten playfully around his arm, and he tenses, ready to slip the headlock he knows is coming, another biting comment already on the tip of his tongue, when a small flash of movement up the street draws his eye.

A little up ahead, a group of boys cross the dimly lit road and disappear down an alley.

Sugawara almost misses it.

That little flash of green before they turn the corner.

He freezes. In an instant, his eyes turn to Daichi, and he knows without a doubt that he’s right. The boy is stiff, staring in the group’s direction with a slight scowl. He’d seen them too. The pleasant, half-drunk fog in Suga's brain dissipates immediately.

It was Daishou.

The roar that wells up in Suga's ears is loud enough to drown out his own thoughts. Something inside him that he didn’t even know was there just... snaps. _Hard_.

“Suga?” Tanaka pushes his shoulder to try and get him to move in the right direction, but Suga's rooted on the spot. He feels himself shrug off Tanaka’s arm.

“Koushi, leave it.” Daichi.

“That was him,” Suga says. His voice sounds oddly muffled, like someone jammed cotton in his ears. He doesn’t will himself to move but he does anyway, stepping off the sidewalk and onto the empty street. 

_It was a scratch. A small fucking scratch._

“I _know_ it’s him.” Daichi’s voice is hard, absolute as he calls after him. Suga couldn’t care less. “Ukai already dealt with it. _Leave it_.”

“Who are these guys?” Asahi now, confused. “Uh... Suga?”

Suga's feet carry him faster, and all of a sudden he’s flat out running, turning down the dingy alley. He stumbles over something--he doesn’t know what, doesn’t even think to look-- and he has to steady himself with one hand on the asphalt, grit tearing into his palm as he slides, but manages to right himself without stopping.

“Fucking- _Koushi!_ ”

Suga hardly even hears him. “Hey! You!” he calls out, but the boys--four of them in all, but he doesn’t even glance at the other three, his eyes never leave the one in the middle--have already stopped and turned around. His feet slow to a walk as he closes the rest of the distance between them.

He sees Daishou’s lips move, but whatever he’s saying, it’s swallowed up in the roar. It really doesn’t feel all that important.

Sugawara sees the boy’s snake eyes widen a split-second before his fist lands square in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo how come these chapters look so long on google docs and then when i post them they're so fucking short huh #ao3plsexplain
> 
> ~~yes koushi is professional fighter for a crime syndicate please don't ask me how this happened i have literally no idea~~


	6. Chapter 6

Suga looks up at the velvet night sky stained bright with stars and decides that he must still be drunk, because even though they’d finally gotten home a half-hour ago he still kinda feels like shit. 

A lot like shit, if he’s honest with himself. His stomach has twisted itself into a painful little ball and he feels lightheaded, shaky. He’s leaning on the railing of the small balcony of the apartment. It’s cold out--too cold for the shirt and shorts he changed into when he got home--but the cool air helps to steady his head a bit and there’s no way he can fall sleep anytime soon, so here he is.

What he’d done was stupid, he knows. The other boys in Daishou’s group had jumped on him the second after his punch landed. He might’ve managed to dodge one of them or stick an elbow in someone’s face, but he’s not even sure he accomplished that much: it’s all just a blur in his head now. One moment he’s standing over Daishou sprawled on the street, and the next he’s tackled hard to the ground, hitting the asphalt hard enough to set his teeth on edge and knock the air from his lungs. 

He’s pretty sure it’s Daichi who drags the boy off of him. Suga didn’t see it, he just has a hunch.

Either way, the whole thing had ended so quickly that before he knew it Asahi was hauling him to his feet with the kind of wide-eyed, stunned concern that asked him if he had just lost his fucking mind.

And the answer was yes, he definitely must have.

Sugawara drags a hand over his face. He had absolutely no idea why he’d just short-circuited like that, especially over a little street rat kid. 

Not that Daishou hadn’t deserved a broken nose for what he’d done--he absolutely, definitely did, and it's not like Suga's upset that the guy now had one. But it wasn’t Suga's job to go dealing out justice. What Daishou had done was already done, and no beating (no matter how deserved it was) ever did anything to change that. _Much_ more importantly, Ukai had clearly already dealt with Daishou to his satisfaction. To someone like Sugawara, that meant that as far as he was concerned, the universe itself had been restored to perfect cosmic balance and he should keep his stupid nose out of it. 

But no. No, he had to stick his fist in some idiot’s face because somehow that made things better.

And Suga frowns a little at that and glances down at the knuckles of his reddened right hand, because even he has to admit that despite solving nothing, it _had_ felt pretty good. He groans and digs his fingertips into his temples, as if that will somehow force his thoughts into order and stop him from feeling so nauseous and just maybe give him the answers he wants.

Shockingly, it does none of those things. 

He’s drawn back to reality with a small start by a sound that supposes he’d known was coming eventually: the sliding door behind him opens and shuts with more force than was probably necessary. 

“ _What the hell was that?_ ”

Suga doesn’t look back at Daichi, and instead he leans forward over the railing and rubs his palms into his eyes until he sees fireworks behind his eyelids. He really, _really_ doesn’t want to do this right now. “Daichi, it feels like my brain is leaking out of my skull,” Suga sighs. “Can you just-”

“No, I can’t,” he cuts in, voice hard. “Are you insane? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

What did Daichi even want him to say? He presses his lips into a thin line, wordless, but the silence only seems to irritate Daichi more.

“I told you to _leave it alone_ , Koushi,” he presses.

“For fuck’s sake, I get it, Daichi,” Sugawara snaps, turning around to face the older boy. Daichi is standing in front of the door, arms crossed and eyes hardened into an icy glare. “I know it was stupid! It just... _happened_ , alright?” he struggles to find the words in his frustration and the pounding ache in his skull; he doesn’t get why Daichi is so angry. Sure, rushing headlong into a four on one wasn’t exactly the brightest idea he’d ever had, but it wasn’t like anyone had gotten hurt. Asahi and Tanaka were fine. _Daichi_ was fine. 

He irritatedly tries to brush past Daichi and go back inside, but to his surprise he’s grabbed by the shoulders and roughly shoved back to the wall next to the glass door. Pain spikes through his skull like an ice pick as his head connects with the hard surface. 

Anger, the kind of anger that he doesn’t remember the last time it was directed at the dark-haired boy, wells up inside him so fast it makes him dizzy.

“What the fuck is wrong with _you_?” he hisses at Daichi. “Look, if you’re pissed because I didn’t ‘follow orders’ or something-”

Suga is abruptly cut off when Daichi’s fist slams into the brick wall a few inches away from his head. “ _Do you actually think that’s what I’m mad about?_ ”

The rest of Sugawara's irate comment dies in his throat and all the anger that had been building hot in his chest is replaced by numb surprise, though the dizziness stays. Daichi’s trembling, Suga realizes a little belatedly, and staring at him with such fiery intensity and _hurt_ that for once Suga just can’t hold his gaze and has to turn his eyes to the floor. For a moment that feels like an eternity they just stand there, both panting, one of Daichi’s fists twisted in Suga's shirt and the other still pressed to the wall.

A car passes by on the street below. Suga doesn't say a word.

Gradually, the tension ebbs from the larger boy’s frame, and Suga feels the hand unfurl from his shirt.

Suga finally steels himself to glance up and immediately realizes that he’s made an awful mistake. Daichi is looking down at him with softened dark eyes, no longer angry but just... quietly considering him, so intently that Suga feels laid bare, unable to move at all. His heart instantly crawls its way up into his throat, and with it he can feel a flush spread across his cheeks. He faintly wonders what on earth could he have possibly done in a previous life to deserve this punishment.

When Daichi’s voice finally comes again, it’s in a soft whisper that sounds a thousand miles away. “I heard you hit the pavement from across the alley. You scared me, Koushi.” 

Suga blinks.

_Oh._

Even as absolutely depleted as he is, Suga's brain desperately tries to supply him with something coherent to say.

“I’m... not hurt,” he finally offers lamely into the silence, so quiet he can hardly hear the words himself, and he winces. Obviously not the point. He needs to focus, damnit, why is Daichi making it so hard to just _focus_? “I...” he trails off.

For a small moment, Sugawara despises everything about this with a flicker of exhausted intensity that surprises even himself. He hates being so close to Daichi that he can feel the boy’s steady heartbeat through his chest, he hates that his own is thrumming wildly in his ears, he hates that he can smell Daichi’s warm, slightly musky scent and he hates that it reminds him of home and makes him want to bury himself in the crook of Daichi’s neck. He hates that Daichi is looking at him with those eyes again, and most of all he hates that it’s this easy to torture him.

Suga shuts his eyes tightly, wishing that the world would stop spinning for just one damn second. 

“You’re supposed to be the smart one, you know? That’s all.”

Suga thinks he nods, but he’s not sure. 

Something must be written on his face because Daichi suddenly sounds a little worried when his voice comes again. “Koushi?” he asks hesitantly. Suga feels hands gripping his shoulders firmly, stopping him from pitching forward.

“It’s fine,” Suga protests unconvincingly. He feels his legs buckle under his weight, and in an instant the boy has slipped underneath his arm, holding him up.

“Hey, hey,” Daichi murmurs. His voice is gentle, almost teasing, but it still betrays a slight edge of concern. Suga hears the sliding door open again, and realizes that he’s being dragged inside. “You’re still this drunk?”

“I guess...” he says blearily. A thought rises slowly from the murky soup that is now his brain, and twists his lips into a slight frown. “Probably should’ve eaten something earlier...” he supplies, not too concerned.

They pause for a moment--at least Suga thinks they do, it's hard to tell when everything feels like it’s moving--and Daichi heaves a sigh. “Koushi, if you haven’t eaten anything since last night I swear I’m going to turn around and throw you off that balcony-”

“Is... is he okay?”

A tentative voice cuts in, a little hoarse and much smaller than Daichi’s, but Suga can’t quite place it. It feels like he’s thinking through mud.

“Um...” Daichi hesitates for a moment. “Little boy-”

It sounds like the smaller voice interrupts indignantly, but Suga's exhausted enough that none of it really processes. Whatever rush of adrenaline that had been keeping him awake so far is quickly evaporating from his bloodstream, and he’s too lightheaded to do anything except for keep his eyes screwed shut. Suga doesn’t even realize that they’re moving again until he’s being deposited on a bed that he vaguely recognizes isn’t his own but happily sinks into anyway.

Or he tries to, at least. 

“Come on. Drink.”

Suga begrudgingly forces his eyes open as cold plastic is pressed against his cheek.

“ _Drink_ ,” Daichi says again, a little more pointedly.

Suga pushes himself upright, grabbing the bottle and tipping it back. He has to tamp down on his gag reflex as the cloyingly sweet sports drink rolls across his tongue. Disgusted, he immediately moves to put the container back down, but a threatening glimmer of Daichi’s eyes makes it clear that he’s expected to finish the bottle. He manages to narrow his gaze at the dark-haired boy as he forces down the rest of it.

“Now, can you tell him you’re fine?” Daichi says in a stiff whisper once Suga finishes the bottle with a shudder. “He won’t leave.”

Suga's confused frown shifts into a small smile when he spots the slight figure of Nishinoya hovering uncertainly in the doorway like a stray dog. God, the little brat could be cute. “I’m fine, Noya,” he says, not unkindly. “Go to bed.” 

The boy vanishes.

After the sports drink Daichi makes him finish three slices of bread with butter before he seems satisfied that Suga has some color back in his skin, and even Suga has to admit he feels a little less like shit after all the sugar and carbs. 

Daichi lets him lie back down once he’s done, disappearing with the dirty plate, and despite everything Suga feels a hazy smile on his lips. There’s probably about a million things Daichi wants to chew him out for right now--not eating all day, drinking on an empty stomach, _drunkenly picking a fight with an empty stomach_ \--but he won’t.

Suga's just getting ready to psych himself into getting to his feet and walking back to his own room when the lights flick off. Daichi walks back in, shutting the door behind him as he peels off his sweatshirt and jeans, leaving him in a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. He crawls into bed next to Suga without sparing the boy a second glance.

Suga's sure that if he were a tiny bit less tired, a tiny bit less drunk, his head would have exploded into a thousand tiny little pieces, but he’s exactly as tired and drunk as he is, and so after a moment of dull surprise, he finally relaxes and sinks a little deeper into the bed that smells like his best friend. Daichi settles on his stomach, head tilted away from Suga and pillowed on his forearms.

“You need to watch your back, Koushi.”

“Ng?” he mumbles questioningly, already falling into a pleasant, sleepy haze as he watches the boy. The nape of Daichi’s neck is a few inches away from his face. He wants nothing more than to curl forward and breathe him in, press his lips to the tanned expanse of skin there and trace his tongue along the curved shape of the black tattoo that he can’t quite make out but knows is peaking out of the hem of his shirt. He wonders what Daichi’s skin would taste like; if the boy’s hands would be soft under his touch or rough and calloused like his, if he could feel the steady, even beating of Daichi’s heart and the rhythm of his breath once more if he just pressed himself up against the boy’s chest.

He desperately wants to know, and yet as bombed out as he is, it still doesn’t even occur to Sugawara to move an inch in Daichi’s direction. 

“Daishou holds grudges, alright?” Daichi says, and though he sounds tired it does nothing to take away from the seriousness in his voice. “Watch out for him. I’m not kidding.”

“Alright,” he replies, and even though his thoughts have definitely drifted elsewhere, he means it. Despite all evidence to the contrary today, he really usually was the type to stay out of trouble. An easy silence stretches out between them for a few minutes before he finally speaks again. “Daichi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for pulling that guy off me.”

“Don’t get tackled next time,” Daichi grumbles drowsily. “Go to sleep.”

Suga eventually closes his eyes, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

+++

Suga awakes to a killer hangover and fingers being gently carded through his hair.

One of those feelings he’d been ready for; the other, not so much. 

His immediate thought is that Tanaka has snuck into his bedroom and is trying to mess with him, but something’s off that he can’t quite get at. He decides it's unimportant, and even if it is Tanaka the feeling is pleasant enough that he doesn’t want to get up just yet. The bed is soft, a headache is pounding between his temples, and the body beside him is warm and solid and comforting.

He inhales, melting a little at the smell of spice and musk, and that’s when alarm bells start blaring in his skull.

His bed didn’t smell like that. Tanaka _definitely_ didn’t smell like that.

The memories of last night flood into his head, hitting Suga like a truck and taking more brain power to sort through than he definitely has available at the moment, but the one thing he knows for certain is that he is _in Daichi’s bed_ , _and someone is stroking his hair_.

He can’t help it, his mind goes absolutely blank and he stiffens up. The hand is quickly snatched back and the weight on the bed shifts away from Suga, accompanied by the soft sound of bare feet on wood, but Suga is completely paralyzed; he doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t even breathe. 

There’s the rustling of clothes being put on, and then the creak of a door opening.

“Eat breakfast,” Daichi tells him, toneless. Then the door shuts.

Suga sits up ramrod straight, eyes wide and transfixed on the stillness of the closed bedroom door. The boy’s voice echoes in his ears and a tight, strangling feeling works its way up his throat as Suga's brain vainly struggles to sort out what just happened.

 _That was Daichi_ , he thinks numbly.

Sawamura-fucking-Daichi.

“Fuck,” Suga hears himself whisper to the empty room. “Oh, _fuck-_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the chapters are still short, i actually have more written but this just ended up being the best place to split them. 
> 
> this update may or may not have been mangled by too much editing but i think i captured suga's utter inability to to do anything but be a confused and angsty cinnamon roll so i'm marking it down as a win in my book. enjoy~


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